


\./ ' 




Xa" :'^mi% \„/ /Jte- %A^ ymni^ \^ 












oV 






^^'\ V. 









'^ \./ ; 








\^ .^^^<- V 















>P^^. 






•^^o« 



V » 1 *. 



bV 






^ -llL^^ 






w^'.^*^ ^.-.^p/^*'*^ •»«^'*.r"^ 



r^ . • • 



<^ -^••;« ^^0^ '^"♦^TTT*' A 







.^V.--.^-<?^ 



<. 'o , * • ,0 






lO^. 



-4 o 




^o. 






'n*^ 



-^^ •" «f ... . * 














^ ''o;©^ ^ 
















... %^ "^ .o^ ...... ^-*^ '""' .sy ... ''<-. 








4 o 










CkyU/ ^<0 



/ 



REAPING 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

MARY L. PEARE-TAYLOR 

AUTHOR OF "ECHOES FROM GIRLHOOD". ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED 



CHICAGO 

Bell Book Company 
1915 






copyright, 1915, by 
Mary L. Peare-Taylor 



<£>.0t5 



JUL -61915 

©GiA406955 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Reaping ------ 5 

Not All The Same . - _ . 6 

Go Where You Are Needed - _ . 7 

Assurance ------ 8 

A Soldier's Return - - - . g 

Our Most Unselfish Friend - - - 10 

Look Your Life Over - - - - 11 

To My Friend, Ruth - - - - 13 

Patriotism ------ 14 

Life is Real ------ 15 

Hope ------ 16 

The Grape Arbor - - - - - 17 

The Reason Why ----- 18 

Three Needs of Life - - - - 19 

How Little They Know - - - - 20 

Because She Was a Woman - - - 21 

Martyred Presidents - - - - 23 

Be True ------ 24 

An Autumn Bouquet - - - - 25 

Deceit ------ 26 

M-a-r-y ----- . 27 

Cousins ----.. 28 

Whisper That You Love Me - - - 29 

Just as Old as We Feel - - . - 30 

To One Unseen ----- 31 

The Self-Righteous - - - - 32 

I Guess I Love You Still - - - - 33 

A Question " " " - - 34 

The Saviour's Birthday - - - - 35 

Three Verbs ----- 36 

Refuge ------ 37 

Chapter Anniversary - - - - 38 

Abraham Lincoln ----- 39 

A Problem ------ 40 




REAPING. 

Oft in the days of sweet romance, 

When schoolmates were lauding my lays, 
I wondered if out in the world, 

I'd meet with such eloquent praise. 
Now often a tear comes unbidden. 

And often a smile lights my face, 
When I think of the generous greeting. 

That gave my first efforts a place. 

All ages and creeds and persuasions, 

Have treasured the "Echoes" I wrote, 
And from many a worthy jDossessor, 

Kind words of sweet euolgy float; 
And so once again I've selected, 

Another collection to give — 
To encourage some weary sojourner. 

And make life the brighter to live. 

I have used my best powers to discover, 

The poems that might most helpful be. 
It was really a puzzling question. 

As the chilliest critic could see; 
Yet I feel when I offer my reaping, 

How sweet will the recompense be. 
For I know that this bountiful world, 

Has harbored a welcome for me. 



NOT ALL THE SAME. 



NOT ALL THE SAME. 

We cannot always laud all people, 

For things they say and do, 
But surely out upon life's journey, 

•We can find some heart that's true. 
Whenever I hear people saying 

That all folks are the same, 
I really think that their discerning 

Is very much to blame. 

Their minds must be indeed quite narrow, 

To think that they could know. 
The monster tide of human thought. 

That makes God's great world glow. 
They surely know the span of life 

Allotted us, below, 
The mortals they so harshly judge, 

They have not time to know. 

If they vs^ould cross the stumbling stones. 

And travel further on, 
I'm sure that they would always find 

Some true, deserving one; 
Some sad heart willing to respond. 

Some anxious, listening ear. 
This great, grand world just overflows 

With lives that ache for cheer. 



GO WHERE YOU ARE NEEDED. 



GO WHERE YOU ARE NEEDED. 

Go where you are needed, my friend, 
While treadi nor the journey of life, 

There is many a weary heart, daily 
Sinking- amid the cruel strife. 




ill in 



Awaiting perhaps the assistance 
That you, and you only can give. 

Just a word that by you rightly spoken 
Might help some poor mortal to live, 



ASSURANCE, 



Go where you are needed, my friend, 

Don't waste time assisting the strong; 
There are others in need of your service, 

Then why keep them waiting so long? 
Just to see some sad face smile in pleasure, 

And sweet words of gratitude say. 
Just to know you had lightened a burden 

Would surely your kindness repay. 

Go where you are needed, my friend. 

For thus our dear Saviour has taught; 
To the poor, and the sick and the lonely 

He many a comfort has brought. 
And your own life will bring satisfaction 

In seeing the proper task done. 
And the burden you bear will seem lighter 

For knowing a victory was won. 



ASSURANCE. 

There is no wave, however high. 
But must some time retreat; 

There is no woe however great. 
But has its bitter sweet. 

Thus as we journey on through life, 
Though dark the way may seem, 

For those who really seek the light. 
The sun will some time gleam. 



A SOLDIER'S RETURN. 



A SOLDIER'S RETURN. 

Home from the war a soldier came, 

Weary, and faint and worn, 
Tanned by many a scorching sun — 

And none to care or mourn. 
No silvery voice of welcome came 

To greet his anxious ear; 
No cheering word nor soothing smile, 

No sigh, or greeting tear. 

Father, mother, sister, brother, 

Called he one by one; 
Naught but the echo met his ears. 

For each and all had gone. 
The years which thus had fled apace, 

While he was far away. 
Had severed every Gordian knot, 

And caused them all to stray. 

He viewed the dear, familiar place. 

So sacred to his heart. 
And looked with wistful eyes upon 

Its broken, shattered art. 
He leaned upon the homestead gate, 

While tears bedimmed his eyes; 
And murmured, but no ansv/er came, 

Save his own smothered sighs. 



20 OUR MOST UNSELFISH FRIEND. 

Homeless, and friendless, now he stands, 

At what was once his home, 
Minus his brave right hand and arm — 

Lost in the battle's foam. 
And lo, the graveyard tombs conceal 

His parents, fond and dear, 
And o'er their green and mossy graves, 

He sheds full many a tear. 



OUR MOST UNSELFISH FRIEND. 

If I were asked to make a choice 

Of animals, my friend, 
Of all the beasts^ and birds, and fish. 

Of which there is no end, 
I'd ask for one, most tried and true, 

The one all hopes to blend, 
I'd say, give me the faithful dog — 

Our most unselfish friend. 

I know the horse majestic is. 

Birds gorgeous are to see, 
And many others, of that class, 

May most delightful be — 
But when it comes to faithfulness. 

The one on whom you can depend. 
The dog, you'll find, of all that throng, 

Our most unselfish friend. 



LOOK YOUR LIFE OVER. 



ir 



LOOK YOUR LIFE OVER. 

Go, look your life over today, 

And ask of your own secret heart, 

Though the comforts of life may be yours, 
Is there never a thorn to smart ? 




Have you at any time injured. 
Some one on the journey of life, 

By heaping more coal on a fire, 
And stealthily adding to strife ? 



12 LOOK YOUR LIFE OVER. 

Have you a brother or sister, 
In need of assistance or cheer, 

Or have you in any w^ay wronged, 

Those whom to you ought to be dear? 

Go, look your Ufe over today: 

An army would rather retreat, 
Than wage an inglorious warfare, 

Which only could end in defeat. 
Though the world may think you guiltless, 

And you may appear sincere, 
Yet the gnawing voice of conscience. 

I know you must sometimes hear. 
For our hearts were given by God — 

So pure, and free from sin, 
Though the wicked, and base, and false, 

Are often allowed to creep in. 

Go, look your life over today, 

For this every mortal should know — 
In the land of the hereafter. 

We will reap whatever we sow. 
For the sake of ties once sacred. 

For the sake of another's woe, 
For the sake of the parents who taught you 

The debt that you righteously owe. 
Go now, while the voice of conscience, 

Is awaking a thought within ; 
Go now, e -e procrastination. 

May lead you to greater sin. 



TO MY FRIEND, RUTH. 13 



TO MY FRIEND, RUTH. 

To the little girl of gone-by days, 

Whose heart was so sincere ; 
To the maiden fair, who often came, 

My lonely life to cheer — 
To the bride-elect, who kindly sent. 

The message of her flight, 
From single life to wedded bliss, 

I now must try to write. 

Dear Ruth, thou sweet, impulsive child, 

Thou maiden, full of heart, 
God grant the man who calls you his, 

May to your life impart 
All that your generous nature a^ks — 

That he to you may give 
The love, and thought, and tenderness, 

Which makes life sweet to live. 

Oh, may he prove a gallant gay, 

And keep his armour bright, 
And may the maiden of his choice, 

Be always his delight. 
And when the years shall drift along, 

And bring their share of harm, 
God grant that you will find support. 

Upon his manly arm. 



14 PATRIOTISM. 



PATRIOTISM. 

England, I would like to claim thee, 

As my own, my native earth — 
The land that holds ancestors.' graves. 

And gave to them their birth. 
Scotland, I would like to claim thee. 

As my own, my native earth, 
Thou also holds ancestors' graves. 

Thou too did see their birth. 

Though many friends so good and true, 

From both those lands I see; 
Though relatives of noble birth, 

Still dwelling there may be. 
The only light my eyes recall — 

The only land I know, 
Is good and brave America, 

And may it long be so. 

The Scot may wave his heather, 

And England sing her praise. 
But I'm content, America, 

Shall see me end my days — 
And as the dust of parents, dear, 

Must molder in her soil, 
I am content to linger here, 

Till ends all earthlv toil. 



LIFE IS REAL 



15 



LIFE IS REAL. 

The letters you write are consoling, my dear, 
And the words that you whisper, replete, 

But in life so realistic we really need more 
Than vapor, and atmosphere sweet. 




Advice you oft give from a bountiful store, 
To the sad, and dejected, it speeds — 

But to help us along in this world of toil, 
We really need tangible deeds. 



1 6 HOPE. 



You have of earth's riches a plenteous store, 
I would not accuse you of greed, 

And yet, for a trifle you never would miss, 
You let some forlorn heart bleed. 

If others to whom we attach the name friend, 
Were to leave us alone in our grief, 

How dark would this beautiful world appear, 
How flickering friendship's belief. 



HOPE. 



Wii.L you be the Christmas gift 
That may be sent to me? 

Will I be the Christmas Gift 
That may be sent to thee? 

The sad, slow days now passing. 
Perhaps have joy in store, 

I trust that time will brighten 
The darkness gone before. 

And if to me you're given, 
And I am given to thee — 

I hope that in the future, 
Some happiness we'll see. 



THE GRAPE ARBOR, 17 



THE GRAPE ARBOR. 

The arbor walls were covered o'er 

With grapes of lovely hue, 
I peeped in through the open space 

And found them wet with dew. 
The place was quite deserted then, 

Yet seats inviting stayed 
To bid the callers enter in, 

Beneath the friendly shade. 
How oft in childhood's restless days, 

I've played in arbors rare, 
And when a maiden I became, 

They did not seem less fair. 
I was not asked to be a bride, 

Within a vineclad bower, 
But yet, for others I can smile 

When comes that happy hour. 
For though my years by tens I count, 

Yet youth will not depart, 
I long to sit within the shade, 

And wait with beating heart. 
To hear a lover come and say 

Sweet words that ne'er grow old, 
That tale so new in every clime, 

I love to hear retold — 
The sweet " I love you," softly said. 

Which seems all space to fill. 



THE REASON WHY. 



What though the future dreams have failed , 

If once you felt that thrill, 
The knowledge that he loved you then, 

When trusting, pure and good, 
Beside the man v^hose name you bear, 

In girlish pride you stood. 



THE REASON WHY. 

We do not alv^ays sing v^^hen happy, 
We do not always sigh when sad. 

We do not always weep when sorry, 
We do not always laugh when glad. 

'Tis often just to hide emotion, 
That we express our feelings so. 

And people hear and oft misjudge us, 
Because the truth they do not know. 

And even if they knew the reason, 
'Tis but advice that they would give, 

And good advice is sometimes foolish. 
Because it does not help us live. 

If you their own dictate returned. 

You'd find that they your case would leave 

For people like to give to others 
Advice that they will not receive. 



THREE NEEDS OF LIFE. 



THREE NEEDS OF LIFE. 

Ambition, we need in the morning of life, 

To the best and the highest as^pire, 
Walk onward, look upward untiring, 

The faithful must reap his desire, 
And if it were not for such reasoning, 

No one would the journey begin, 
But each one must think himself victor, 

And calmly and bravely rush in. 

Courage, we need in the mid-day of life, 

For that is a critical place. 
As we stand viewing triumph or failure 

And dare not just yet cease the pace. 
Oh, ye who have wielded the sceptre. 

And harvested seeds you have sown, 
You know not, nor can you imagine 

The anguish of toilers, unknown. 

Patience, we need in the evening of life. 

When the bitter is losing its sweet. 
And our eyes everywhere are beholding 

The signals that whisper retreat. 
Yet life is a glorious delusion. 

And willingly others will go. 
To take up each task left unfinished 

By those who have failed, or grown slow. 



20 HO W LITTLE THEY KNO IV. 



HOW LITTLE THEY KNOW. 

How little they know of the aching heart, 

Or the demon of dark despair, 
Oft hidden behind a pleasant face 

That looks to the world so fair. 
There are people appearing contented, 

Who are silently bearing their woe, 
And only through great provocation, 

They allow their emotion to show. 

For the brave and truly courageous 

Know how to hide the dart, 
That stained by the blood of battle, 

Lies buried in the heart. 
They have proved that a master mind. 

Can smother the rising sigh, 
Having learned the power of endurance, 

By being compelled to try. 

To those who make light of our trials, 

Should be given a burden to bear, 
Instead of enduring their nonsense. 

Should be forced in the anguish to share. 
For they cannot judge by appearance. 

Nor measure the weight of a blow. 
And oft by expressing opinions 

They're proving how little they know. 



BECAUSE SHE WAS A WOMAN. 21 



BECAUSE SHE WAS A WOMAN. 

In the days that have departed, 
Thouo^h our noble women stood, 

Where both brain and heart were needed- 
Ministers of might and good. 







Yet we often heard dissensions, 
Saw them worsted in the chase, 

Just because she was a woman, 
She could never fill the place. 



22 BECAUSE SHE WAS A WOMAN. 



Though the hand that rocked the cradle. 

Often rocked a man to power, 
Moulded by the mind of woman, 

Equal to that trying hour. 
Yet when she could prove her wisdom. 

Men would not the fact embrace — 
Just because she was a woman, 

She could never fill the place. 

Though her able brain discerned 

Far above the average man, 
And she knew without discussion 

Which would be the better plan, 
Yet the hand of fate decried her, 

For a man of any race — 
Just because she was a woman, 

She could never fill the place. 

But the time has come, and conquered, 

And the good and true shall reign. 
And the weaklings of a gender 

Must within their spheres remain; 
For the narrow ban has widened. 

And we hear men say with grace — 
Just because she is a woman, 

She can better fill the place. 



MARTYRED PRESIDENTS. 23 



MARTYRED PRESIDENTS. 

While today a nation honors, 
One whose fame will never die, 

Be it breathed in ode or sermon — 
Uttered with a cheer or sigh ; 

For the great emancipator, 

He v/ho nobly rose and fell. 
Calm and brave, sincere and steadfast, 

Will on history's pages dwell, 

Lincoln, grand, and good and glorious, 
Lived to see his hopes succeed, 

Lived to know his name was famous. 
Which by him had been decreed. 

Other men have met dethronement. 
Though their deeds none could decry. 

Lived too long, or died too sudden, 
There's a fitting time to die. 

Lincoln, Garfield and McKinley, 
Lived to see and taste of fame. 

Though our hearts are filled with sorrow 
When we breathe dear Garfield's name, 

For his fate was so untimely — 
Scarcely had his work begun, 

When the fondest hopes were shattered, 
And for him his race was run. 



24 BE TRUE. 



Lincoln, Garfield and McKinley, 
Each is speaking from his grave, 

Each has left an inspiration, 
Demonstrations true and brave. 

When we speak of noble Lincoln, 
VVe the others must entwine, 

But as first of these three martyrs, 
Lincoln^s name will always shine. 



BE TRUE. 



Never make a promise 

That you mean not to fulfill. 
Never break a promise 

Even though it bodes you ill, 
'Tis the maker and the breaker. 

And the words they lightly say 
That destroy the confidences 

Found along lifers rugged way. 

Never hold your self superior 

To the sailors on life's sea, 
'Till you've proved by valiant service. 

You're deserving of the lee, 
Oh, be true, when you are trusted, 

For our Maker wished it so, 
Scatter flowers, and pluck the thorns 

From the pathway as you go. 



AN AUTUMN BOUQUET, 



25 



AN AUTUMN BOUQUET. 

Not the be^t or fairest blossoms 

Could I send from sprinor's fair birth, 

But the ones, despite misfortune, 
That still beautified the earth, 




Not even for their meanings, 
Because I had no choice. 

But just because they lingered, 
It made my heart rejoice. 



26 DECEIT. 

The cold, cruel frost had slapped them, 

But still they grew with grace. 
Until through time they triumphed 

To earn a better place. 
Now your best room adorning, 

Those flowers I think I see. 
And as you gaze upon them, 

I know you'll think of me. 



DECEIT. 



He came robed in the garments of friendship, 
Disguising deceit none could see, 

To a grief -stricken woman pretended. 
Of valuable service to be. 

Then he smiled on her one worldly treasure, 
A daughter so young, fair and sweet ; 

Though marriage and fatherhood bound him, 
His guilty heart did not retreat. 

He has torn the love of a daughter, 
Away from a good mother's heart, 

And given her naught to replace it, 
But anguish to torture and smart. 

May the God that made motherhood sacred, 
To those who abide in the right. 

Avenge every wrong he's inflicted. 
And turn all the darkness to light. 



M—A—R-Y. 27 



M— A— R— Y . 

M-A-R-Y, you know, spells Mary, 

And Mary Is my name, 
Because 'twas that they christened me, 

When to this world I came. 
But 1 never liked the plain old name, 

It did not suit my taste, 
And wondering how to change it round, 

I childish thought did waste. 

And so we tried to fix it up — 

They called me M-a-e, and M-a-y, 
But it never seemed to sound just right. 

No matter which they'd try, 
Yet when dear mother, Mary called. 

It sounded sweet to me; 
I often used to tell her so, 

And ask how could it be? 

And when a favored lover came, 

He would not call me May, 
It sounded so expressionless, 

I often heard him say. 
He said " Please let me Mary call, 

It really sounds so sweet," 
And how he ever tuned that name, 

I cannot here repeat. 



28 COUSINS, 



He sung to me of Mary's good, 

And told me of the sarre. 
And so upon m}^ wedding day, 

His Mary I became. 
And now for many, many years, 

The name has lost its dread — 
It is not how a name is spelled, 

But how a name is said. 



COUSINS. 



He whispered his love in the days of our youth, 
I, dreamingly listened, scarce thinking it truth; 
And now through the years passing drearily by, 
For such ardent devotion I wearily sigh. 

A step in life's journey, 'tis often too far, 
And thus all the joy of a lifetime we mar; 
Oh, if we but knew the right partner to take. 
How many a heart would be saved a long ache. 

I treasure the thought of my sweetheart sublime. 
In the knowledge his love had not wilted with time, 
Yet his untimely end oft brings thoughts of dismay 
When I think of the day when we laid him away. 



WHISPER THAT YOU LOVE ME. 29 



WHISPER THAT YOU LOVE ME, 

Just whisper thatyooi love me, 

'Tis such a little word, 
And yet in all this world of change, 

No sweeter word is heard. 




It soothes a mother's aching heart, 

It wins a little child ; 
It stills a lover's restless pulse, 

That throbs with fancies, wild. 



30 JUST AS OLD AS WE FEEL. 

Just whisper that you love me, 

'Twill make life bright to live, 
To think your sweet, expressive lips, 

Would such a message give. 
I need not tell you of my love, 

For that too well you see; 
My feelings will not let me hide, 

That mystic spell from thee. 

Just whisper that you love me. 

May I not ask in vain. 
You do not know how sweet 'twould be. 

If I your love could gain. 
Just to be loved by one I love. 

That joy is yet to be ; 
I long, and wait, and hope and pra3^ 

That happy day to see. 



JUST AS OLD AS WE FEEL. 

We are just as old as we feel — 

It is disposition that counts ; 
Age cannot mar the good and the true, 

Though time up life*s pyramid mounts. 

What matters a year here or there. 
If right doth the journey control ; 

Let our lives adorn this beautiful world, 
Forgetting the years as they roll. 



TO ONE UNSEEN, 31 



TO ONE UNSEEN. 

Dear Friend, for such I will call you, 

Though sacred to me is that name, 
For few in this great, lovely world, 

Make friendship an object or aim. 
There is nothing more grand and delightful, 

There is nothing more just and sincere, 
And yet for the want of true friendship, 

Oft life is made lonely and drear. 

We all are not hungry for viuials, 

Or clothing, or water, or air, 
But think of the hearts that are thirsting, 

For friendship and love, everywhere. 
Though money can buy many treasures. 

And help us on life's weary way — 
'Tis the friend upon whom we can lean. 

That brightens the gloomiest day. 

To me you are only a vision, 

I really do hope when we meet 
That the picture of you I have formed. 

May prove to be lasting, and sweet. 
And so I say to you, kind writer. 

When time lets us come face to face, 
I hope that the venus you've painted. 

May still in your heart have a place. 



12 THE SELF-RIGHTEOUS, 



THE SELF-RIGHTEOUS. 

Of all the dangerous obstacles, 

We meet where're we walk, 
They are the so-called righteous folks. 

Who in our churches talk. 
For there they stand with saintly air, 

Those hypocrites we know. 
And from their sin-grimed vicious lips. 

Let smoothest language flow. 

They tell you what you ought to do. 

And how you ought to live — 
To everybody, but themselves. 

First-class advice they give. 
And this, indeed, we often hear, 

And yet what can we do ? 
How to expose these Pharisees 

Is a problem hard, 'tis true. 

Then let us all a lesson learn, 

From those who try to hide 
Within religion's gorgeous cloak. 

Their wickedness and pride. 
" Do unto others as you would 

That they should do to you" — 
There is no eloquence more grand, 

No sermon preached, more true. 



/ GUESS I LOVE YOU STILL. 33 



I GUESS I LOVE YOU STILL, 

I AM lonely, oh, so lonely, 
And disappointed grow. 

When harsh words oft you utter, 
And kindness do not show. 




Yet when compared with others, 
You seem to rise, until 

With all your faults, I murmur, 
I guess I love you still. 



34 " '■ A QUESTION. 



Your tongue is very willing 
To utter words that pain, 
But oh, I could not force you, 

To chant a sweet refrain. 
Yet when I speak with other men, 
" My heart for you doth thrill, 
I -find myself confessing— " " 
I guess I love you still. 

When years ago, together 
We started on life's way, 

You knew that thorns would surely 
. Across our pathway stray. 

You know how much I've suffered, 
How steep has been the hill — 

Now won't you softly whisper, 
I guess I love you still. 



A QUESTION. 

When may it be, dear one, 
That you and I will be 

Bound by sweet friendship's ties. 
In all sincerity. 

When may my shattered hope^. 
Revive and all come true,' 

And the long, dreary past . 7 
Be bj^autifiedrby jpu. 



THE SAVIOUR'S BIRTHDAY. 35 



*THE SAVIOURS' BIRTHDAY. 

Hark! the Christmas chimes are calling; 

All mankind to joy and peace, 
Once again the hallowed message, 

Bids the world from strife to cease. 
Brother, sister, friend or neighbor. 

Though your ills be great or small, 
Once again a loving Saviour, 

Bids us angry words recall. 

He, the blessed man of sorrows, 

Felt the pangs we feel toda}-. 
Wrongs, that only death could vanquish, 

Woven in His earthly stay. 
Oh, the wicked tongue of slander, 

Oh, the eyes with envy green. 
And the jealous heart, malicious. 

All of these our Lord has seen. 

Though His life- was pure as heaven, 

Yet abused and 'wronged was He, . 
Nothing but His life-blood flowing. 

Satisfied man's infamy. 
But He rose above the tumult. 

From His well done earthly part ; 
Upward to His God returning, 

With forgiveness in His heart. _: 



36 THREE VERBS. 

Had we not the old, old story, 

Told today in every clime. 
Which proclaims the wondrous tidings, 

Of the Christ-child*s birth sublime — 
How dark and drear this world would be, 

Harder would each cruel wound feel, 
Were it not for the assurance 

Of a Saviour, true and real. 



THREE VERBS. 

To do — this is our province here, 

Upon the stage of life;^ 
To work and play our part aright, 

Through all earth's scenes of strife. 

To be — ^yes, truly we exist. 
Each day a web we weave, 

Which will our life-work records tell, 
When fleeting earth we leave. 

To sufl^er — oh, how many wrongs 

We often suffer here, 
By false hearts, and untrue friends, 

Who fair to us appear. 

To do, to be, and to suffer: 
Three verbs describing life— 

For we must do, and be, and suffer, 
Till ends our earthly strife^ 



REhUGE, n 



REFUGE. 



When our hearts are weary with waiting, 

With striving and hoping in vain, 
There is one who will give us a refuge 

From tempests of sorrow and pain. 
The Saviour will comfort His children, 

His message forever is blest; 
He carries the lambs in His bosom, 

And giveth His loved ones rest. 

Oh, if all hearts could but fathom 

The wonderful pleasure I feel. 
In trusting my blessed Redeemer, 

Whose love every sorrow can heal ; 
Then to the Friend never failing, 

My spirit in gladness will cling, 
While storms are surging around me. 

Of Jesus, my Saviour, I'll sing. 

Sing of the Friend who is willin^,^ 

And waiting assistance to give; 
Sing of the Friend who has suffered 

That we through His suffering might live; 
Live through all time to inherit 

The joy that His coming has brought—* 
Oh, who would not love such a Saviour, 

And by Hi& example be taught. 



:^8- CHAPTER AISTNIVERSAR Y. 

CHAPTER ANNIVERSARY. 
O, E. S. 

Though absent in person, I'm with you in spirit. 

On our anniversary night; 
And may the grand Order to which we belong, 

Be ever embued v/ith the right. 

I often look back, and think over the night, * 
When you gave me your secrets to share; 

And never till death, shall I cease to recall,: 
Your thoughtfulness, kindness, and care. 

Now oft when alone, on sad, gloomy days, 
That beautiful scene comes to mind; 

I think of the vows of true friendship we made, 
And how solemn the ties are that bind. 

Oh, who could go forth from that sanctum of trust, 
Forgetting the pledges they gave—- - 

Or who could forget such a vision sublime, 
Except in the gloom of the grave. 

Long, long, may our Order, so just and so pure, 

Tq Masonry add a sweet thrill— 
And rnay noble women throughout the great Und, 

Their stations successfully fill, ; ;, ^ 



ABRAHAM' Uf^COLN. '39 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN,! 

It is only a grain in the balance^ 

That weighs it up or down^- ' 
And yovi fall to earth like a felon, 

Or "your name becomes renown. ■ 
Had some one else been successful, 

In reaping what he had sown, 
Of the great, and noble Lincoln, 

The world would never have known. 

It is oft but a gentle zephyr, 

That fans the embers small; 
And a monster flame resulting, 

Devours a steeple tall. 
Thus, if at a supreme moment, 

An adverse wind had blown. 
Of the great and noble Lincoln, • 

The world would never have known. 

The cabiii, now so treasured, -' 

To which that baby came; 
The mother now remembered, -'^ 
. Would unknown be to fame. - 
The good and true he practiced - ■' 
AVould all on winds have flow^i, 
Of the great and noble Lincoln, 

The world would never have known. 



ifO A PROBLEM^ 

Though his life had been as faultless 

As we hear of it today, 
And his motives all as earnest 

As a mortal could portray; 
Yet, had waves of crushing failure 

His projects overthrown, 
Of the great and noble Lincoln 

The world would never have known. 



A PROBLEM. 

** *Tis better to have loved and lost, 
Than never to have loved at all.*' 
Oh, could the author of these words, 
Have ever really felt the thrall? 

Love, so enslaving, yet sublime. 
None can its mystic power explain, 

For oh, the anguish it imparts, 
To any one who loves in vain. 

And yet perhaps, like gold, refined. 
By the devouring hand of flame, 

We are the better who have known, 
The magic passion none can blame. 



5'/3g 







' ^.nS^- ^ 



0« 










4^ ♦: 



7-^\o^ 











> •* " ^^ ^ 



s 






cp^^^j^^:^''^ .-^^\.-^" 



0^ •.LlinL'* '^^ *^ 














>o«::i k 



' 4^°.^ 




V^-%0' %'^^'\r "%*^-'> .. ' 







, ^ 



/ ^K 



.^°^ 



^o. . 




, -t 












'^^'^^ . 









■fc. 






,*. '■^.-o* •« 






^°-nK 

















/...A;-">°.^. 



r^. V. 



^r/ Graniville, PA o 








; j?^^. 




■^0' 



.'^°- 



